


Terrors of the Dream SMP

by The_Void_Spectre



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Other, Too many people to tag its like a whole fricken cult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Void_Spectre/pseuds/The_Void_Spectre
Summary: "We are free, but why do I still feel trapped?"A bunch of random horror themed stories I think of
Kudos: 3





	1. Hello...

**Author's Note:**

> Im not quite sure why I did this, but enjoy my words.

The start of something new, or something you forgotten. Do you feel lost? You'll find your way. Look around, enjoy your stay. You find something while you're away. Maybe a tale to tell a pal, maybe a fear for all to hear. Welcome to the tales of the smp, but this time you cannot change fate!


	2. Reality isn't what you think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He feels lost. He doesn't feel real. Is anything real? If this topic bothers you, I deeply apologize and feel free to nag at me and skip away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These aren't well written, just stories I think up in the middle of class or after I wake up. Sorry <3

Friday, ??/??/????

Sitting balled up in the corner sat a young boy. A boy who's origins were as lost as his memory. His name was Ranboo. He has poor memory indeed, but he knows why he is here. He left his book in this room and he returned to get it. But no book was here for him, but a feeling of dread. Something...was wrong...he felt it deep within him. Through his veins and through his heart, his lungs full of all the words he choked back to not say. Marrow of his monster-ish bones thicker, weighing him down to the cold obsidian floor and keeping him their as if he was chained. He wanted to go. He wanted to cry. He can't cry. As if this couldn't get any worse, his voice rang out. Like the call of a crow upon the battlefield. Bitter and painful and sour.

"Hello, Ranboo. What's your problem today?"

As if the God's and demons betrayed him, Dream approached. Why? Why NOW did he need to be here?

"You seem to have issues. Why is that?"

"What...what do you mean?"

"Curled up and shaking, it's not cold. It's indeed room temperature. You and ender and I assume to be ghast. Don't they feel warm?"

"Half and half cancels out, and who told you I was a ghast?"

"You can be anything in this world, I just picked what seemed to fit. What's up with you?"

"I don't want to talk about it"

"But like...why not? You cant lay on the floor Ranboo."

"Says who?"

"Me."

The room seemed to understand his message. Molding and shaping and flipping, it seemed to flip around. Hanging upside down from the ceiling, it seemed to be a lot more colder suddenly. He moved the room to his command, and he shapes it like a sculpture. Why won't he go away...?

"The world shapes and fits what I need, and I need you to realize you dont belong here. Go, before it's late."

"I can't. I can't leave. The door isnt real, Im not real. The room isn't real. Are you real?"

"No, I am not. But I also am. You are though. But you are not. We are all real, but we all play fake. The faces we make are shows we play, act for the eyes. See for the truth. Taste for the lies and deception for the heart. You shall go, you shall be free."

"I don't...I don't understand ANYTHING you just said to me and that helped with absolutely nothing???"

"I expected you not to know. For my words were as real as your fear, yet came as a lie."

"Ok so...we are...speaking in riddles?"

"The house is real, go home. The friends are real, go play. I am not real, please go. This isnt real, dont stay"

"Dont stay....???"

"Indeed, dont stay."

THUMP

With a thud, Ranboo pulled himself off the ground. Had he fallen? Had he let go? Looking around, the room was dark...and he was alone. Alone. He was finally alone again. In his room, in his home, next to his bed. He had fallen.

"Ranboo, are you ok?"

"Yeah, Im good Tubbo"

"Well surely not! That fall sounded like a bomb!"

"Dude I just fell out of bed"

"I know, Im messing. But are you ok?"

"Yeah, I think I am. I dont knowm"

"Oh...do you..wanna talk? I don't really know how this comfort stuff works..."

Tubbo walked over and sat next to him. They sat and talked until the sun rose again. This was real. This was good. This made him happy. He had friends, a place to stay, a world to play in and so much to look forward to. He has things to see. Moving on from the night he had prior, he didn't forget this. Why does he still feel lost?


	3. Put on rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hm....who knows? Time will tell.
> 
> Blood and implied death! Just warning ya now <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Humina humina

Wilbur's eyes popped open and he flung himself up, as if he had been startled awake. But nothing had disrupted his slumber. The bright, painful light burned his eyes as he tried to adjust. Where was he? Rubbing his eyes and looking around, he seemed to be in a living room. Looking again, the room seemed...off. There was no doors to leave the room anywhere. The walls were painted a very bright blue, and the ceiling was covered in what must have been the brightest white lights in the world. A tv sat in the middle of the room, amongst what seemed to be children toys. Building blocks, dolls, toy cars, you name it. Without a second thought, Wilbur walked over to the tv and turned it on. Surprisingly, it worked. It was playing a black and white movie Wilbur had never seen before. A woman appeared on screen and looked over her shoulder dramatically as she ran through what seems to be a old graveyard. Now Wilbur wasn't assuming this, there quite literally was a sign behind her that had said "Old Graveyard". He laughed softly. How stupid was that? Shaking the thought from his head, he wandered about the room, looking for any sort of exit to which there was none. But Wilbur didn't panic, he felt a surprising sense of calm in the silence. Walking back over to the tv, he sat down and watched the end of the movie. It felt like it went on for ages. The longer it played, the louder a ringing sound played in Wilbur's ears. But he ignored it and ignored it and just simply kept ignoring it. Finally, his face began to burn. Like he had a rash over his face and it itched oh so painfully. He kept scratching and clawing at his face, but his eyes wouldn't leave the screen. His fingers felt numb and he couldn't feel them on his face bo longer. Nails grazing over and over the spots they've torn at repeatedly. He couldn't feel the painful clawing as he scratched his skin. Blood trickling and gliding down his torn neck and face and he kept digging deeper. But he couldn't stop himself, the painful burning was unbearable. As if he had a rash. A metallic tasting liquid began to fill his mouth and pour out from between his lips, and he felt as if he was being strangled by himself. Choking and crying in pain as he couldn't help but tear and claw at his face. What was his face. Now a mess of torn skin and blood now drying from the time passing or continuously pooling out. Yet the movie still played. That damned movie. He couldn't look away no matter what. The movements of the cast still lingered in his mind as a bad memory he couldn't shake away. He couldn't see nothing anymore, he couldn't hear anymore, he feel anymore, all he tasted was a horrible strong blend of salt and iron. But the movie still lingered. His body was numb as he felt himself sink away into nothingness. He was nothingness. He was gone, and the last thing he thought was "Is it over now?". But the movie still lingered. He would never know. Truth is the movie would never end, unlike the lifeless heap of the man that once viewed it oh so intently. There was no end. There never would be an end. He woke up in a black and white scene, the people playing out the scenes once more as he watching them in person. He could see outside the screen. He could see the empty room. The painful bright lights fading away to reveal his bedroom. He was home amd now he was trapped here. Banging again the screen until his hand were numb, he seen Phil walk in. He screamed and begged for him to see him there, but he didn't. Phil looked around the room for his son, and yet found nothing. Walking over to the tv that played static Wilbur could not hear, he began to turn it off. Wilbur could only watch in fear as he seen the world fade to black again. Tears rolled down his face once more as he felt himself fall into the depths of nothingness. Trapped. Forever.


	4. I loved you a lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter written from Ponk to Sam (if Sam succumbs to the egg.)

I loved you, you loved me too...and I thought I'd stay with you forever. We wanted that future. We laid in the fields and joked about that. Now look at you. Red eyes, red skin, all red. Red red red... You never liked red. You like blue. Greens. Not RED. Why are you red, Sam? Why?!

You said red was love. I used to wear it often, it was a cool color.  
You said red was hate. I stopped wearing it as much because I didn't like that.  
You said red was the best in roses, looked so pretty.  
Now you are red. My love. My hate. My best.

You stand guard and hold them hostage. You and Punz and Bad and Ant. Many more too. You're all gone. I look in your dull red eyes and I can't even see who you are. Eyes are the window to your soul, you know? Where is yours? Where was your happy day?

I knew I shouldn't have left you alone. But I had to return to the egg. The damn egg. The egg that too you from me. Or maybe took me from you? I don't know. I never knew.

You tell me to join this egg. Why, Sam? I don't think I want to do this. I love you, but I don't want to lose me too. One of us need to escape. I'll do it for us. I'll save Fran, and Tommy and your hotel. I don't like Tommy, you know? But you praise him. I gotta save him from you. Or...this fake you I suppose. Who are you?

Last week we stood in the fields. Staring across at each other. You didn't look the same as I remember. I wanted to move to you, but something told me to run. Run from you and this and everyone.

Karl approached me today. Did you ever get a real chance to hang out with him? He told me someone close also lost a person to the egg. He told me to run with him. Time is running out, and Im running out with it. 

Sam, you told me if I have a dream then I should do it.  
You told me "Ponk, if you ever have that lightbulb, take it and put it in your lamp. Use that light to make a path. Use that path to see your goals. Use it to complete them."

Sam, you were my light. It's dark now. I don't see anything. What were my goals? What did I do before this? I don't...remember. I barely remember the real you now. I still remember your smile and your horrid jokes. Now you are gone and I'm alone.

I'll be your light now. I'll take you from the shadows and show you the light again. I'll do my best, I'll save you. I'll care for your home and your items and Fran and it all. I'll finish what you began.

I wont let myself ever forget you.  
Who you were. What you did or why. I won't forget.  
I'll never look at red. I wont hate or love. I'll pick nothing.  
It's all blue, anyways.

I love you, Sam.

I loved you a lot.


End file.
